One Hundred Things Lucas Has Forgotten
by emerald otter
Summary: Learning takes time. Mistakes are lessons, but we'd much rather learn without them, wouldn't we, Lucas?


One Hundred Things Lucas Has Forgotten

**1) The Time When Mom Burned Breakfast**

When you woke up, your nose wrinkled in disgust. There was a strange smell drifting through the air-almost ashy and good. A bad combination. Jabbing your brother in the shoulder did nothing; Claus only grunted and turned around, stealing the blanket with his movement.

Rolling your eyes, you slid off of the bed and padded down the stairs, listening to your small feet leave sounds as they slapped against the course wood. Reaching the kitchen, you saw smoke and mom sobbing into her dress, her lovely hair strewn about her.

You ran back up the stairs.

**2) When Claus Left**

Mom had left and now he was, too. He was going, going. You were afraid to reach out, afraid you'd reach out and not touch. Claus was gone, as far as you could convince yourself you were concerned. He turned to you, a hunting knife clenched between blank knuckles. "To the death," he said, eyes raging a green fire that swept you off your feet. It made your heart ache, but in a sad kind of pain.

Don't cry. Don't let him see you like that. It's just as difficult for him as you. Don't cry or he just might too.

**3) When Boney Pulled Down His Pants**

As if soaring through the air, clinging desperately to Kumatora's leg and not looking up was embarrassing enough. No, your dog had to latch onto something and that something was the hem of the back your pants.

...The breeze wasn't all too unpleasant, though.

**4) Claus Said "I..."**

It was whispered like a great, terrible secret, tumbling from his lips and stealing both of your breath at the same moment. Close, close, close. Stare and grab his shirt in fistfuls. Realize how well you know his scent, how readily you have always sunk into his warmth. Don't cry, never cry. It's sad, it's true, it's so, so, so sick and you don't know what mom will say, but...

You answered likewise and kissed him anyways.

**5) The First Time He Pulled the Needle**

It was an awful sense of power that washed through your veins as you clenched both hands around the golden rod. Then...then calm as it rose from your grip. PK Love surged through your body and into the Earth, blue lines flashing in your vision, ingrained in your mind. A strange melody whispered in your ear and you could feel another set of hands (young, so young like you) atop your own.

"It's going to be okay." And you decided you believed this boy.

**6) His Encounter With Porky**

He was a child and yet...not so. He frightened you with his constant wheezing and choking and malice. He _terrified _you and you could hear the melodies of the Earth freeze when he came down in that horrid machine. You wanted to run, you wanted to cry, but that was not the you of today. That was the you of yesterday, the boy from Tazmily. Crybaby Lucas. You were not him. Not anymore, nor when you smiled, nor any time at all.

So, against this old child, you stood your ground, head held high with unfelt pride, eyes piercing into the unseen ones of his. You bit your tongue and swallowed your tears. If there was any moment to prove rebirth, it was now. No more crybaby Lucas. Never again.

**7) Playing With the Dragos**

"You bump them in the side-" Claus yelled as he slammed into the dinosaur. "-like this!" Grandpa turned to you, expectant and yet not so. He knew what you'd do.

"Well, Lucas, try it."

You were hesitant-how could you not be? What if you got _hurt_? What if Drago got annoyed?-and stood there. Claus's expression did not fall, his eyes did not waver. He stared with unabashed joy at you, his brother. And you decided that disappointing Claus was much worse than getting hurt, so you charged.

**8) Meeting the Masked Man**

Anger, sadness, fear, recollection. Those were the conflicting emotions rising in your being when you saw that figure step out of the ship and stare down at you blankly.

You mouthed the first word to come to your mind before falling.

**9) Unfounded Revenge and the DCMC Boxers**

The idea was absurd. Embarrassing. Humiliating. And Duster and you gaped at Kumatora in outrage. "Showing off my _underwear_ as a _diversion_," Duster repeated, shaking his head. "Oh no. Not in a million, zillion years, Kuma."

She looked at you and you broke eye contact, pulling out your DCMC pamphlet. There was no winning against Kumatora. Not even in a battle of wills.

**10) The Time When Kumatora Burned Breakfast**

"Damn it."

When you woke up, your nose wrinkled in disgust. There was a strange smell drifting through the air-almost ashy and good. A bad combination. Swinging your arm to your side, hitting the ground, you rose. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, you caught one pink-haired tomboy princess cooking something over a fire. Her face was an art of fierce concentration, eyes narrowed in anger.

Once she caught sight of you, she snapped, "Well, that chicken laid an egg, so I thought I'd cook the damn thing and make us something." You smiled and she stood up. "What's so funny?"

You ran back to your sleeping area.

**11) Learning Who To Blame**

It wasn't their fault. It wasn't their fault. It wasn't Mother Drago or Drago's Son or any other Drago to blame for this. It wasn't Claus's fault or mom's fault or dad's fault. It wasn't even Porky's fault or the Pigmasks' faults or the Masked Man's fault.

It wasn't your fault either, and that was what liberated you in the end.

**12) Lighter's Happy Box and Musings Presented Amidst Truths**

Fuel hated the thing, but not nearly as much as you did. It burned your eyes, scarred your brain. . It made Fuel nervous; it terrified you. Together, you two would sit outside Lighter's house and stare at the sky. "Do you think he's out there, Lucas?" Fuel would ask time and time again. You would give the same flustered, determined answer.

...And one time, you simply said no.

**13) The Insane Moments With Brother (Claus)**

Claus was a crazy brother to have out of any brother, but you decided you liked him enough for his decisive impulsions. You two were one in the same, after all. Two sides of a stone. Sun and moon, night and day. Times when the two of you snuck out of farm duties to go fishing, pulled pranks on Ms. Molly with Fuel, played fetch with Boney. They all seemed to state to you that you and Claus were meant to be partners in crime. You were always meant to be.

And you two were never, ever going to leave each other's side. This you were certain of.

**14) Happy Boxes Come to Tazmily**

It had been a monkey, right? Some crazy monkey who delivered them. A devilish monkey with a funky collar. Who did silly dances and made people laugh. Cute little monkey. Oh, such a cute little monkey. Dad hadn't liked the monkey. Not one bit. He didn't want a Happy Box. You didn't blame him. (You never blamed him, because he never blamed you for _that time_.)

Even when lightning struck your house and killed the sheep, you still didn't blame him.

**15) A Time He Played With Fire**

"We both need this," was his response, nervous and young. You stared at him blankly, but returned his grasp all the same. Heat. It was warmth. It made the pit of your stomach a comfortable hearth on a winter's eve. "I'm sorry," he also managed to choke out, closing his eyes. So, so sorry. You knew why he was. Because if he hadn't been in trouble, maybe they would have been saved. Maybe. But it was only that, so you didn't reprimand him or forgive him.

He was no Claus. But he was nice enough, brave enough to be a substitute to weather the storm with, so you just pulled him closer, rain shooting down on both of you senselessly.

**16) When He Couldn't Feel His Brother**

It was like snapping a thread-sudden and near painless, but damage was done all the same. You looked out at the sunset, hand behind Boney's ears and stared with a fierce concentration. It didn't feel right. It didn't feel as...as whole. Something was missing. Something was gone again. Something more had disappeared from your life.

You didn't cry. You were too concentrated on that sunset, as red as Claus's hair had been.

**17) An Oath Made**

But he held your hands in his, his warm ones the equal size of yours and he looked at you so sincerely, so protectively and it made your heart ache, but in a good kind of pain. Staring at the face which was your own, you smiled back and nodded. "I'll protect you," he vowed solemnly, "to the death, Lucas."

You told him that you hoped it wouldn't come to that.

**18) Freudian Theories Of Senselessness**

You were the ego. You were Lucas, the ego. What that meant was lost upon you entirely. It simply resounded through your brain.

Claus-brother-he was the id. He was impulsive. He was without consequence. Perhaps bad, perhaps...not so. Because Claus was fun. You didn't know. It scared you. But you wanted to make Claus happy.

Mom. Mommy. Mum. Oh, dear mother. She was the superego. She was gentle and respectful. She was constantly onto you about manners and kindness. Always. Both people-deaddeaddeadofcoursedead-beat upon your head. Tore you until you screamed without sound. But you wanted to make mom happy.

And both, perhaps evil, perhaps good, were as illogical as they claimed you to be, you realized.

**19) Ness**

A voice in Mother Earth. A whisper on the limbs of trees. _All praise the hero, Ness. The boy, Ness._ And you wished maybe, just maybe, you could be like this Ness, too. As long as he was just like Claus, that is.

**20) The Time When Dad Burned Breakfast**

When you woke up, your nose wrinkled in disgust. There was a strange smell drifting through the air-almost ashy and good. A bad combination. Flinging your arm to the side and noting the dull thud it made with the straw mattress, you rose.

You slid off of the bed and padded down the stairs, listening to your small feet leave sounds as they slapped against the course wood. Reaching the kitchen, you witnessed smoke and saw dad standing there, a confused and disgruntled expression painted upon his older-by-the-day face. He let out a sigh-he always did that and you knew you were beginning to pick it up, somehow-and drew his eyes away from the mess on the stove, catching your gaze.

You ran back up the stairs.

**21) When He First Spoke To the Earth**

It didn't begin as words and it didn't evolve into them, either. It was a sense. A familiarity similar to...well, similar to Claus. It made you feel whole for a moment of a second, a sort of serenity that only you could feel. A connection. PSI flowed through your veins and you could feel it all. The trees pressed into your mind. You felt safe.

Mother Earth held more wonders than anyone could truly appreciate, even when one understood it.

**22) The Burning of Sunshine Forest**

Something clogged your nose and burned your eyes, stuffed cotton down your throat and gave your limbs a crazed jolt. Claus was next to you, you could sense him, and he was nervous. Mom was behind you, this you knew. Your heart beat with the Earth and Claus's as it always did, yet this rhythm seemed more intense, more deafening.

Something wasn't right.

**23) Kumatora Learned PK Starstorm**

You could never keep those odd magypsies straight, but this one was Ionia, right? The one who gifted you with PSI, the one who led you to the first Needle, the one who claimed you "worthy." Her (his?) form flickered before you all and she (he?) gave the customary sad yet happy farewell. All the while you were blinking blue lines and arrows out of your head.

Kumatora was distraught (could she be blamed?) at this goodbye, shaking her head incredulously. There was always something fierce about Kumatora, resembling some vicious forest beast, and this was no different. She was positively menacing in a beautiful way. "No." Her voice was hoarse. "No."

And the only gift the princess received for her troubles and the loss of her loved ones, one by one by one, was but a PSI skill.

It seemed fitting, to an ironic degree, you decided with a bitterness beyond your youth.

**24) He Tried to Get Warm**

You snuggled further into the blankets, pretending that Claus was just on the other side, just on the other side. That he was right on the edge was all. He didn't enjoy you taking up the bed is all. Soon he would shove you over to your end and that would be that. He would eventually steal the blankets like he always did (there was too much cloth now, too much, more than normal and yet you felt so much colder) and you would punch him in return until he let some go.

You pressed your face against a pillow, but you could not recreate a scent that had long since gone stale. Claus just went downstairs to get a glass of water. That's all. Just like last night and the night before that.

**25) ...And He Was Burned**

"He's not coming back." Fuel's expression was a blank canvas, devoid of sympathy and emotion. Calculation helped one escape from the tirade that was humanity and its ties. It allowed him to escape from the enormity and address it, the Ultimate Truth. It allowed him to let go.

But...you did not want to let go, you realized with a sudden jolt of fierce compassion. For, how could you forget that warm smile on a face mirroring your own (and yet not so), the times in the fields, giving mom sunflowers, nearly burning the house down in several attempts to make a decent breakfast? How could you _want_ to? For if you let go of Claus, even if he had already let go of you, then...

That was parting from yourself, it seemed.

**26) His Fights With Brother (Claus)**

Memories flashed through your mind. Memories of absurd fights you had had with Claus once upon a time. About who had to walk Boney last, who got the last omelet, how tall Leder really was. And you realized how stupid all that was. While guarding yourself from the otherwise mortal blows of this...this creature ensnaring your brother, you realized how stupid it all had been. How the last time you had even _seen_ your brother, it had been over a ridiculous disagreement.

And this time may have been under different circumstances, but they eerily resembled the smaller scale spats you two had participated in. Just another argument over who got what last.

**27) Unwanted Accusations**

Hot breath raced across your cheek as you grew hyperaware of the hands clenching your forearms. The question rode out from between lips once more and you closed your eyes, squirming. Yes.

"Are you sure?"

Yes, Claus.

Contented, he let go of you and released a stressed sigh.

**28) The Gigue From the Waves**

A gigue was a type of song, a lively old music. So why did it make you shudder so? Outlined against the setting sun, as red and Claus's hair had been, the waves lapped hungrily at saltine shores, a certain viciousness to their actions. And you thought of gigues and viciousness and gluttony and wondered why you questioned such menial things of life.

Mary and George. A gigue. What did it mean? Silly, silly things like that. Meaningless, surely.

**29) Ego Defenses (And Senseless Theories Return)**

Guilt. It rang through your body, shook your core, and resounded like a gong. Oh, guilt. Wringing your stomach before uncurling it and repeating the process. Sometimes it was overpowering and all-consuming. Dread. It was all that guilt was. Dread of the confrontation.

Your confrontation that was never going to arrive. The retribution to be smacked down upon you by the forces of all above because _you deserved it_. You deserved it and that blank face of a brother who no longer _has_ a face is the accusation that justified such.

But maybe you were just trying to protect yourself from a greater truth.

**30) The Time When Duster Burned Breakfast**

When you woke up, your nose wrinkled in disgust. There was a strange smell drifting through the air-almost ashy and good. A bad combination. Swinging your arm to your side, hitting the ground, you rose. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, you caught one near-crippled thief sighing with a stick stirring something over a pitiful flame.

His eyes drifted to you, at first disinterested but then recognition sparked them. "Lucas? What are you doing up? ...Why are you looking at me like that?"

You ran back to your sleeping area.

**31) PK LOVE**

Brother, father, friends, mother. It pulsed through your body. Things you cared for. Things you related to. Things you longed to protect and were willing to with every once of your strength. And while people would doodle those stupid pink hearts over papers to represent the rawness of emotion, you knew what it looked like.

It looked like blue lines and arrows, veins of life leaking out.

**32) The Second Time He Pulled the Needle**

It was an awful sense of power that washed through your veins as you clenched both hands around the golden rod. Then...then calm as it rose from your grip. PK Love surged through your body and into the Earth, blue lines flashing in your vision, ingrained in your mind. A new melody joined the one already prancing through your conscious, and you felt a sort of peace, a sort of reassurance. Yes. They had two, but so did you. Those small, young hands were atop yours once more and a voice of ages long since past spoke.

"You can do this." And you knew you could at that moment due to one simple reason: you had to.

**33) When It Wasn't Fair (It **_**Was**_** A People's Name)**

"Claus? That sounds almost like a _people's_ name." It rang, rang, rang through your brain. Your breath came out in ragged gasps. No... No, this wasn't over! There had to be a flaw to the Absolute Safety Capsule. There had to be. For the sake of all that was good, for the sake of _Claus_...

His blank gaze was burned into your eyes. His familiar green eye, his obscured familiar face, his unused familiar voice. Claus. Claus. Oh, Claus. This wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

You screamed and cried and attacked with as much force as you could muster-a PK Love Omega here, a few PK Offense Ups used as a boost there-and still, nothing. The Pig King simply stuck his tongue out at you and your harsh lung-fulls of air escaping you in tired pants. Kumatora had her arms securely locking yours behind your shoulders in a most painful fashion and you felt something akin to shame cool you down in the same way the water trailed down your face.

You had cried. Oh, you hadn't changed at all. Not a bit. How fitting. How unfair.

**34) Regarding Gender Confusion**

Kumatora liked horror movies. You sobbed at the mere mention. She disliked wearing even the hoodie/dress she usually wore. You thought it complimented curves very nicely. She found flowers gaudy and distasteful. You would decorate your whole house with them if you could. She loved getting dirty in a fight. You wondered what mom would have thought to see you after such a common occurrence.

But you both liked ice cream. That was a good enough tie to form the bonds of a friendship upon.

**35) The Masked Man's Identity**

Dad's hat. It was dad's hat. You beheld it fluttering off into the distance, disbelief spreading through your being. It forced your body to be too small, the air around the fringes of you buzz, your head becoming light. Dad and you had braved the hardships of surviving together. Now... No...

Just ahead, however, was your old man. Relief spread through you. Alive. Good. Fine. He looked you in the eyes when you approached. "That...that masked man... He's Claus."

...

...

What?

"Your brother. Claus. He's your brother, Lucas. After so long, I've finally found the son I've lost. Be happy." But you weren't. Because the Masked Man, that _thing_ that shot out lightning and looked at you without recognition, _that_ was what your brother had become? Such was Claus's state?

No wonder you were unable to feel him. He was but a vessel. A dog meant to be shot down. And you decided (rather grimly, rather sadly) that you'd rather shoot a dog you love yourself than some stranger doing it for you who could not comprehend.

**36) When Times Began to Change**

Times began to change when dad started going out more. Times began to change when you started to go to bed and didn't see the _point_ in stifling your cries. Times began to change when dad started to look older (and not just that older by the year look, but older by the _day_ appearance, with new lines and sighs every morning).

You loved your father, laws yes. You also loved your mother and your brother. You simply could not find the capacity to be strong for one when your two support beams were gone. And dad's days out looking for Claus grew longer and longer.

Times began to change when dad didn't come home one night.

**37) He Didn't Smell the Same **

Bio-mechanical. That was Boney's reply to what Pigmask Commander Masked Man, Chimera Base Three was. Something told you it wasn't supposed to be like that. That the listless creature before you was something far more than just a label placed upon enemies, no significance other than during a passing glance.

Bio-mechanical. Boy machine. Living monsters. Living dead. Dead love. And you shuddered.

**38) ...Kurausu, Is It? **

Claus was an odd name. In Tazmily, it was a very odd name to have. Lucas and Claus. You two fit together interchangeably, however, to the minds and voices of the citizens. But... Claus? Honestly. Those parents were out of ideas.

Lucas and Claus. Claus and Lucas. Despite the absurd and foreign name, they had to agree that no other name went either way so finely.

**39) "Quit Yer Mopin', Boy," Dad Said (And He Replied)**

Dad always looked upon you with a sort of disapproval, you always felt. It made you feel terribly inadequate when appraised next to Claus or Fuel or any other child. It made you feel terribly insecure when alone, trapped under the glass slide of his gaze.

When you laid strewn about in front of mom's grave, eyes staring sullenly at the sunset that was as red as Claus's hair had been, dad had gruffly spoken, "Quit yer mopin', boy." The intent was a good one. You did need to quit this. It was unhealthy, destructive even, and you proved of no worth to the household at this point.

This time, though, when he said that, you just kept staring at that sunset. Red, red sunset. And your lips opened and you said something in return, a different food for thought.

How?

**40) The Time When Boney Burned Breakfast**

When you woke up, your nose wrinkled in disgust. There was a strange smell drifting through the air-almost ashy and good. A bad combination. Swinging your arm to your side, hitting the ground, you rose. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, you caught one brown dog running around frantically, his tail set fire. He barked and whined and cried out as he ran to the river, the odor of a burnt egg still heavy in the air, yet no trace of such. For the sake of your sanity, you decided it was a dream.

You ran back to your sleeping area.

**41) The Art of Running (And Forgetting)**

It's there, like an itch. Deep, persistent. Maniacal. In these few precious moments of attempts at escape, no blink can be spared, no breath wasted. Arms and legs and _movement_, oh movement, and a sort of higher pride, an honor in the sheer joy of containing an ability you yourself have worked for. A skill which cannot be bought through birth nor money. Only movement.

When you returned home an hour or so later, wet and pungent, dad gave you a strange look, not quite understanding why you did this to yourself. But you were one of the few and proud, a gazelle who could glide through the fields of suns. Who knew? Maybe you'd spy Claus one of these days.

Strange, though, because when you ran you didn't think you'd find him.

**42) Crying**

It was supposed to be graceful, wasn't it? Just a lone tear sliding down one's cheek to express the total tragedy of the situation? If that was the way it was done, you were perhaps a sole exception, a freak. Strangled gurgles and shuddering sighs wracked your body and you merely rolled with the blows. Air forced itself out in harsh breaths, water blinded your gaze. Pain in your chest, but it was almost pleasant in a strange way, as though to say, _Hi there, Lucas. It's me, your unstable emotional status. Want to sit down? Because, I'm going to be a long time and you better get nice and comfy, there's a good boy._

You bit your lip and decided perhaps grace isn't the actual way raw tragedy is expressed.

**43) Melodies of Earth**

You had tried to explain it to Fuel, once. It was quite miraculous, because he really listened to you (well...he always did, but this time was more than attentive). Fuel had stared long and hard, brow furrowed, while you related this feeling of serenity, of maternity and love.

He shook his head after all this and looked up at you with a smile. "Sometimes I don't get it, Lucas," he spoke softly, "but you're on to something." You grinned back and held his arm as you both gazed at the sky.

It's was okay if Fuel didn't understand it, because at least he understood you.

**44) The Third Time He Pulled the Needle**

It was an awful sense of power that washed through your veins as you clenched both hands around the golden rod. Then...then calm as it rose from your grip. PK Love surged through your body and into the Earth, blue lines flashing in your vision, ingrained in your mind. A new melody joined the one already prancing through your conscious, and you felt a sort of peace, a sort of reassurance. It was alright. They had three, but so did you. You could do this. One more. Those young hands were upon your own, yet there was a certain tiredness to how they were placed.

"It's going to be a hard won victory." But a victory nonetheless. You decided to believe this boy, because he had not led you astray before.

Just as tired, you replied that you'd do your best to Ness.

**45) "Where is Claus, Lucas?"**

The dreaded question. Your stomach did a tremendous flip, but failed to land it and went plummeting down past your colon somewhere. Where is Claus, Lucas? Oh, oh Dragon... How could you tell grandpa and dad? They would be so angry. So, so angry and it'd be all your fault and oh you couldn't imagine what else. But how could you have said no to brother's determination?

You couldn't contend with the fierce spirit of Claus. Because when Claus wanted something, half of you did too.

**46) Meeting Yokuba**

"Nwehehehehe!" What a fiendish laugh! It pierced your ears and you winced from your position in the bushes. The two Dragos behind you stood at attention (well, the older one crouching, but all the same) as soon as the noise was released to the world. A horrid man yelled and screamed while strange contraptions moved behind him, controlled by...pigs? Men? Pigmen?

You decided, after hearing that laugh once more, that violence could be a proper solution in a situation such as this. Stepping out of the bushes grimly, you whistled.

**47) Club Titiboo (Yoshi-Koshi)**

She smiled with such strained practice at you. "You remember me, right, kiddo? Huh?" You furrowed your brow and shook your head. "Damn it." ...Maybe you did. But it was a vague sense. A wisp of flouresent hair and a feeling of belittlement accompanied by pride for...something.

"Don't change your expression, _got it_?" You kept it frozen at a half smile. "It's me, Kumatora. We met at the Forest, remember? I'll explain this shit later, okay?" Exasparated, she put on her best winner expression. "And put a smile on!"

You did. Only because Kumatora told you to and experience proved that when she told you to do something, _you were going to do it_.

**48) The Death of Mom**

"You boys remember those swimming lessons daddy and I gave you a few summers ago?"

Claus and you stood frozen in front of her before your twin found the energy to incline his head slightly.

"Good." Mom, she moved forward and-_push!_-you and Claus found yourself in a water world with only the sounds of screams and the smell of blood to assure you there was a madness on land beyond this madness in water. A madness perhaps worse and

_RRRIIIIIIIPPPP!_

That voice screaming kinda sounded like mom.

**49) Fuzzy Pickles**

"Just say it." You shut your mouth, hand tightening behind Boney's collar. You were not going to subject yourself to this humiliation. Kumatora was not to be deterred, however. "Come on. Just repeat what you said when that statue attacked us."

Duster watched this with apparent amusement and you shot him a desperate look, longing to mouth the words 'help me' to him. "Well," he said, cocking an eyebrow, "what _did _you say, Lucas?"

At that moment you wanted to hit that man.

**50) The Time When Fuel Burned Breakfast**

When you woke up, your nose wrinkled in disgust. There was a strange smell drifting through the air-almost ashy and good. A bad combination. Flinging your arm to the side and noting the dull thud it made with the straw mattress, you rose. Walking down the stairs, listening to the pitter-pat of your feet, you rounded the corner to witness a certain brown-haired boy waving his arms frantically about a burning pan of omelets. When he caught sight of you, his actions went from panicked to almost ashamed.

"I...I was trying to cheer you up," he said, quiet, eyes downcast.

You tried to smile because it was the intent that mattered, and you two shared a breakfast of Nutbread and milk instead.

**51) The Art of Forgetting (And Accepting)**

You sat on your porch, staring at the sky and thinking, thinking, thinking. Thomas's Bazaar now "sold" things for a "price." Leder was very, very tall. How tall was it, again? You hadn't had omelets in a while; dad said they weren't needed. Miss Tessie had been very nice when you had seen her at the beach this morning, had greeted you and exclaimed how lovely it was you were finally out and about. The Item Guy hadn't come around today and you wondered if he was sick. _Did_ Item Guys get sick? Was that possible? Yado's Inn had some comfy blue pillows. Those blue pillows could just make you fall asleep and nap the day away. Maybe they were magical. Claus was dead. You had had to help Boney herd the sheep today, because dad had been out in the mountains. Oh! Speaking of which, dinner was probably burning right now! You'd better rush inside and check that.

And he was never coming back.

**52) When He Didn't Care About the Clouds in the Sky**

It wasn't that you were ever self-conscious, so to speak, but you always tried your best to keep up a good impression. Of course, a good impression meant more than brushing that mess of a hair or wearing clean clothes. Good heavens, no! It also meant not bursting into tears in public or bumping into people, looking at something for too long or in a different way, muttering to yourself or sighing too much, not having your shoes tied and-the big one, drum roll please-making sure to have a nice big smile on your face at all times!

Yes, only with these presences (or lack thereof, ha ha) would keep you afloat in the social jungle that was civilization and grant you success to a long and happy life.

...But one time, you didn't care about success or living long and happy. You didn't care and the smile drained from your face and you ran out of the village square, where Mr. Yokuba was talking to Miss Molly and Lisa and everyone, crying.

One time, of course. And a one time slip-up is nothing to worry about! Soon you'll be making money at a job and serving your loving master, King Porky Minch himself! Just think about that!

**53) Tane Tane Island.**

Purple trees and a green sky, mailboxes that greeted you and trash cans with useful materials within. An Alligator Hat. Some Luxury Bananas. Go on. Try a few, why don't you? Oh, oh look. It's Claus. Say hi to Claus, Lucas. Say hi to Clausy Wowsy. SAY HI TO YOUR BROTHER, LUCAS. YOU NEED TO SAY HI TO YOUR BROTHER.

He skipped up to you and gave that heart numbing smile he always gave. Something was...something was not right, however. His bottle green eyes were not as deep, somehow. There was something almost...almost malevolent about them. You tried to ask him just what was happening, why the mailboxes had things ranging from postcards to dead rats, but your voice came out warped and strange. A dog's bark.

Claus just continued to smile jovially. "Lucas, Lucas! Let's switch places, okay? Let's switch places! You're more..." His eyes fell out of focus. "You're more..."

Alive.

**54) "They're Waiting For You, Lucas" **

They're waiting for you. They're waiting to spit on you and throw rocks at you and make your life hell. Who's everyone? Everyone, Lucas? Everyone you love, of course. Aren't _you_ so special?

Hinawa's waiting for you, Lucas. She's waiting with fresh omelets. SHE'S WAITING FOR YOU. YOUR MOTHER IS WAITING FOR YOU, LUCAS. GO SEE YOUR MOTHER.

The boy named Lucas is crying at a grave.

The boy named Lucas and his dog are loitering in the forest.

The boy named Lucas is getting into trouble in the mountains.

The boy named Lucas stole Nuts from our garden.

The boy named Lucas is bullying animals.

The boy named Lucas learned some **bad magic**.

The boy named Lucas...

The boy named Lucas...

The boy named Lucas...

The boy named Lucas...

The boy named Lucas...

The boy named Lucas...

. s c r e a m .

**55) She Was Like a Sunflower, Wasn't She? **

Mommy's dead. Mommy, with her smiling face and bright eyes and lovely hair. Mommy's under the ground, right where you're standing, Lucas. You're right above her mutilated, decomposing body. Worms are eating her eyes out right now and all you do is place her favorite flowers in front of the grave, bawling your crybaby eyes out.

No one else has, though, and it's the most you can do anyways.

**56) When Kumatora and Duster Tried to Understand**

"So, your mom died and your bro's gone, right?"

You gave a minimal nod. This wasn't something you preferred to discuss, but how could you pass up the opportunity for someone to understand? Only Fuel and Boney ever realized the enormity of it, why you could not move on. Kumatora sat next to you, looking out awkwardly. "Your mom's dead. Okay. Bro's gone. Gotcha. But...it's been three years, right?"

Duster, on the other side of you, shook his head. "I hurt my leg when I was young, Kuma, and I still miss full use of that thing."

"Well, that's a necessity, Duster. Lucas can breathe without his mom."

But...the thing was, you didn't know how many more breaths you _could_ take without mom and Claus. You honestly didn't. And perhaps that was the real issue.

**57) Attack to the Beat**

Every fight had a sort of tune to it, you thought. Kumatora and Duster agreed with you to an extent and Boney often followed the rhythm without fail. It seemed your power extracted on the monsters was increased by a simple pulse. But maybe that was just you.

**58) "You Will Never Understand True Sufferance"**

You will never truly grasp sufferance. Empathy is something you cannot understand, nor hold, Lucas. You will never go hungry, nor sleep in an area other than a bed or the occasional tree, nor will you ever have to cry with reason. That is the world of the Nowhere Islands and the village of Tazmily. A land of little sufferance. It is something you cannot understand. It's not your fault for your callousness, Lucas, but we'll still hold you accountable for it. Don't worry.

You're kind of doing it for us, though. Thanks.

**59) Learning PSI**

Ionia was a...person in the hot spring when you had gone to rest up from a hard lot of battles against the crazy monsters in the forest. (Something told you it wasn't always this way and it wasn't _supposed_ to be this way.)

Closing your eyes as instructed by the person, an almost instantaneous wave of calm rolled over you. It was like the times when Claus would smile at you so lovingly with such reassurance, the times when you were no longer self-conscious for a good five seconds. And...and then, a burst of epiphany, a realization of self, of truth, of life. You felt whole. You felt real.

"PK Love? Perhaps it is 'the Time.'"

You didn't know what that meant, but you felt so _right_ at the moment that you were comfortable with not knowing a few things.

**60) The Time When Grandpa Burned Breakfast**

When you woke up, your nose wrinkled in disgust. There was a strange smell drifting through the air-almost ashy and good. A bad combination. Flinging your arm to the side and noting the dull thud it made with the straw mattress, you rose.

You slid off of the bed and padded down the stairs, listening to your small feet leave sounds as they slapped against the course wood. Reaching the kitchen, you witnessed smoke and saw grandpa standing there, waving his hat over a burning omelet furiously. Catching sight of you, he chuckled, "Your mother never burned a measly egg, I bet."

You ran back up the stairs.

**61) Oops, He Really Did It This Time (Again)**

Just another mistake. Just this one time again. But when did the one times become a regular occasion and develop into numb excuses? When did it end? When did you stop making mistakes and start making dreadful decisions? What determined the difference in label? Everyone fancied to think someone was keeping score of the good and bad, tallying it up, but it frightened you. Who did such a thing? Who had the right? God? People? One's one self?

Maybe it wasn't the number, though. So this was just another mistake. This one time, this one mistake. There'd be another mistake for another time and that time alone. Errors stacked upon errors, papers for the scorekeeper to shuffle through on a rainy day. Perhaps the difference however, between dreadful decisions versus mistakes was not only the decisiveness of the action, but...

When you made a mistake, you made up for it. Because the truly dreadful decision is not attempting to right your wrong.

**62) Bravery and Sacrifice**

You decided a long time ago that bravery was a joke, that people only had an underlying nuttiness to them that made them do the insane things you read about in books. It was a mistake to ever bestow a human with such suicidal glee. It was senseless, ridiculous even.

But mom, with her blue eyes staring at you and Claus as you both were swept away by the current, that madness was in her gaze. A sort of desperation and grim acceptance. Why? Why did she do such a thing?

Because if she didn't, her two sons would die as well as her.

But... But... _Because you two were important to her_. More so than herself, though? She was insane, surely. Absolutely mad.

But as you stood before the Pig King, your friends and family (missing two, always missing two) behind you, you knew you had that nuttiness running through your blood. You were willing to stop the clock right then and there and you couldn't quite explain what that felt like. You became hypersensitive to every second ticking down, every breath rattling through your chest. No, other than that and a decisiveness you have never had (a steady right, attuned to the beat of your own heart) you could not explain. But you knew why. And that was enough.

**63) When He Remembered (On Accident, Of Course)**

He's dead, though. They're all dead, Lucas. Everyone.

...

...

Oops.

**64) Rope Snake's Second (Or Third) Chance**

Rope Snake amused you, you had to admit. In a sort of exasperated, tragic fashion. Him pledging to carry you all to Tane Tane did not sound very promising (after all, he let you fall before, didn't he?) and you weren't in the mood for his antics. He was more of an actor than a fighter.

He was just plain useless, really.

But, you had made mistakes before. And even if you were not as falsely illustrious as Rope Snake, you had talked yourself up (feebly, of course, Claus was much better at talking you up) only to let yourself down and everyone else. There was a similarity there. A longing to do right and do right the first time.

That's probably why you agreed to let him try to help you.

**65) The Destruction of Lighter's Happy Box**

The squealing noises and the flashing colors made you afraid you'd have an seizure. And...and poor Fuel, he had to live with that thing. He had to walk past that thing several times a day and resist the horrid box spouting nonsense.

It replaced the fire in your heart with a cold fury. A ball of fierceness, as though all the rage and hate of your shadowy personality had been condensed into a loathing of that one object.

One day you did look at that box, straight at the screen. There was a pressure in your mind, then a crying out from your soul. There was a buzzing in your skull, a feverish need to concentrate as though something spectacular were to occur.

The box blew up.

**66) High of Summer**

It had been the high of summer when your brother had left you. The sun had made the air around simmer and the birds cry in joy and the flowers pop open, regardless of the tragedy to nature that had occurred just the night before. Your mother died the night before. Your father was put in jail. They cried last night. Things were a mess.

It was all you could remember now, to keep you going along. High of summer. Things were a mess. But don't worry; it happened to someone else, not you. Things will be okay. Everything's going to be _a-okay_, you'll see. It's all some horrid dream.

Mommy's going to wake you up and tell you that your brother is waiting outside. He wants to play with the Dragos. You'll see.

You'll all see.

The rain will wash away.

The pixie dust with fall from your eyes.

You'll see.

You supposed that was what kept you going now. It's a dream. Not a good one, but it's not a nightmare. Because you don't know what true pain is and you'll never know and, oh, you can't imagine it, sweetheart.

Because you're gonna wake up and Claus will be right next to you with the biggest smile on his face and it's _going to be okay_.

**67) "Churning Butter Is So Boring!" He Decided**

Because, well, churning butter was a very dull sport, you decided. Claus and dad were running around after the sheep with Boney, trying to get them back to the barn. Mom was out in town getting supplies. And then there was you, churning butter like a fool. Oh, oh yes. It was milk now, but just they wait. It'll be butter before they get back! This was your duty and you would live up to such.

"Hey, Lucas," was breathed down your neck and you jerked your head to the side. What was Claus doing here? "Dad's got it covered. Thought I could help you." He pressed his hand lightly against your shoulder and you felt a heat swim in your head. Naw, you could handle it. "I'll keep you company, then."

Well, Claus's company was far more entertaining than churning butter by one's lonesome. The dullest sport in history.

**68) Missing Claus**

It was so painful. Not like that type of ripped, torn pain you read about in all those books, but a sort of hollow feeling. A feeling of something _missing_, an idea that someone took something out of your insides and do so without your consent.

It'd be almost completely forgotten sometimes during your travels, but then it'd hit you, a pang of loneliness, of _sadness_. I bet Claus could have done this a little bit better. Claus would have said something about this. Claus would have loved this. Claus would be so proud of me.

These were moments where you felt faint, where air escaped your being in one great sigh. Kumatora and Duster and Boney, they would stare and become confused, and you would assure them it was the wind. Just the wind stealing your breath.

**69) Each One**

One flower for each that was lost. One flower for mom, one flower for Claus, one flower for friends, one flower for the world, and one flower for yourself.

**70) The Time When Lighter Burned Breakfast**

When you woke up, your nose wrinkled in disgust. There was a strange smell drifting through the air-almost ashy and good. A bad combination. Flinging your arm to the side and noting the dull thud it made with the straw mattress, you rose. Walking down the stairs, listening to the pitter-pat of your feet, you rounded the corner to witness your dad's friend. Lighter, was it? Yeah. Mr. Fuel's Dad, Lighter.

He caught sight of you. "Your daddy don't make you food, does he? Just ups and leaves." You stared with an open mouth because you didn't know how to reply. You didn't know if he was insulting dad or simply acknowledging the truth.

You ran back up the stairs.

**71) The Sunflowers and Mom (She Looked So Real)**

Amidst the sunflowers, you (thought you) had seen your mother. You had chased after her, vaguely aware of Boney ahead of you. Mom! Mommy! Mommy, come back! Please! You had rushed forward, brushing the long thick stalks of the flowers away from scratching your face. And there she had been, standing in the air. Boney was nowhere in sight. And, before any rational thought could enter your mind (just wanting to touch her, if you could just touch her...), you leapt for her.

"It is not your time," she had spoken (or so you thought) and

you fell.

**72) "That Porky Bot Was Lame Anyways"**

The chauffeur had at least had the decency to hint you on just what to do in this competition. Which was lose, by the way. By a small margin. But how could you lose by small margins when that thing was so awfully _slow_ and _weak_? It was near impossible to contain yourself from blasting through the trials. You've come this far. There was no way your were going to lose because it was too _easy._

"Meh, that Porky Bot was lame anyways," Kumatora offered after you all advanced, "and fat."

"Excuse me?" the thief next to her asked. "I don't think robots are fat, Kuma."

"No, just... I mean, come on! Did you see how slow he moved across that platform?"

Duster nodded and you had to cover your laughter behind your hands, earning a strange look from them all and a whine from Boney.

**73) His Destiny**

Crybaby Lucas. That was all you'd ever be. It was your destiny. Crybaby Lucas, the softy, the complainer, the wimp. Useless. Meaningless. Just another dumb character to fill the pages of the book, standing on the sidelines while the good guys take care of everything.

Claus was supposed to be one of those good guys, supposed to be a hero. But you screwed that up, too, didn't you, crybaby Lucas?

You stifled sobs as your voice reached a cracking note and clenched your eyes shut, biting your tongue. _Guilt_, one heart beat recognized. _Atonement_, two more ordered. Which was funny, because didn't the heart beat in twos, not in ones-twos?

Maybe it was because you're a wretched half-hearted boy now. You're missing one beat. You're missing something and you can't get it back. Not now. Perhaps never.

Now, that's frightening.

**74) He Pretended It Was Someone Else**

Because things like this just didn't happen to you. They happened to other people, people far, far away. People without faceless faces and insignificant names of little meaning and concern.

Like a boy named Ness or Picky or Loid or Fuel or something he'd never heard of.

...Not Fuel. Never Fuel. Never mind. Just...never mind. Forget it.

**75) When He Fell In Love**

It came as a sudden realization, offhanded, one fine afternoon after mom and dad had returned to the house and you and Claus had insisted on staying out. Claus had wanted to show you how cool the sunsets were on that little cliff next to those sunflowers. Your brother had had to drag you up there, so excited was he.

And, really, that sunset was exquisite. You both had joked and nearly forgotten about it as the light bathed you in its deep light as you chased each other about. It wasn't until you both fell down, exhausted, that you both eventually turned your attentions to the bold glow.

It was as red as Claus's hair, you noted, and that was when you knew. Oh, that sunset really matches Claus, his smile's always nice, I love Claus, I wonder if mom's gonna be worried about us, I wonder how tall Leder really is.

It wasn't sappy, it was far from romantic, and you two didn't share any affections because even though you acknowledged it, the thought held no power. It wasn't until later, when you were staring up at the ceiling late into the night, that you became hyperaware of your sin and the body next to you responsible for such emotions, breathing so softly. Up, down. Up, down.

You stared lovingly at this because only Claus could make a simple rhythm of life so artistic.

**76) Coming to Terms on Tane Tane Island (One Flaw)**

For not doing much, Lucas does a lot. Lucas cries next to a grave. Lucas and his dog loiter in the forest. Lucas gets into trouble in the mountains. Lucas steals nuts from some peoples' gardens. Lucas bullies animals. Lucas learns some **bad magic**.

But that's all, really. Nothing to look at over here, my good man. Just a stupid little boy. The boy named Lucas is all.

It scared you more than you cared to admit. But don't worry, Lucas, you're _a-okay_! Just peachy, and you are _loving_ life. You are _happy_, Lucas. Because you have clothes on your back and access to three meals a day. Life is all that it should be.

...But your calorie intake is still only around maybe seven hundred a day. Funny, huh?

You're an ungrateful, egocentric boy. You're horrid, Lucas. Horrid. Absolutely horrid. How does that make you feel, Lucas, the boy who stole nuts from our garden? HOW DOES IT MAKE YOU FEEL?

But don't worry, Lucas, you're _a-okay_! Just peachy, and you are _loving_ life. You are _happy_, Lucas. Because you have clothes on your back and access to three meals a day. Life is all that it should be.

Without brother.

Your smile froze on your face. Without brother. Right. That little flaw.

**77) Dad Didn't Like Them**

You liked to draw. Drawing advertised a world of escape, a world of different possibilities. Sure, the most you did was doodle sunflowers and stick-figure imitations of mom and Claus with hearts flying about, but it made you more calm. It cleared your head and allowed you to think critically.

Dad didn't like your drawings of mother and brother, of sunshine and hearts, of dogs and family, love and war. Dad didn't like them, so he tossed them in the hearth and lit the fire and walked away after he was done. You still sat there, however, watching the happy (so happy) faces crinkle up into real smiles before amounting to ash.

Hey, that was all anyone ever amounted to anyways.

**78) Something in the Wind (It Seemed Like Tragedy at Hand)**

Sometimes, when you looked in Claus's bottle green eyes, you felt a sort of sadness. A pang of misery. It was as though he were gone, gone and never coming back and oh you couldn't bear such a thing. You'd as soon die than have Claus leave forever. Claus was your soul mate, your separate half as you were his.

Thinking of him leaving and never coming back, heh. That was plain silly.

**79) The Time For Sappy Love Songs is Over**

There was nothing remotely romantic involving your feelings for Claus. There was a sharp pain, yes, a pain of knowledge that you two weren't and shall never be. They were raw and true and real. It's the realest thing you know and you clung to that, cling to that reality while living a dream.

But as you stared up at the sky, petting Boney's back, you wondered if Claus was even out there still. While dad was searching, searching for the boy you love, you sat and searched, searched with your mind, your heart, your soul for another that will reach out in return.

You find nothing.

**80) The Time When Mom Burned Breakfast (Or So He Thought)**

When you woke up, your nose wrinkled in disgust. There was a strange smell drifting through the air-almost ashy and good. A bad combination. Flinging your arm to the side and noting the dull thud it made with the straw mattress, you rose.

You slid off of the bed and padded down the stairs, listening to your small feet leave sounds as they slapped against the course wood. Reaching the kitchen, you witnessed smoke and saw...mom? Mom? Real and true? You smiled as tears rose unbidden in your eyes, a desperate feeling clawing up your throat and ready to burst out of your lips like a cave of bats being awoken. She turned to you and you saw the blood drip, dripping down from her chest, saw her decomposed face, and choked upon the air.

You ran back up the stairs.

**81) "You're a Constant Downer, You Know That?"**

Fuel was always brutally honest with you. He was brutally honest with everyone, however, so that made it okay. But when Fuel said you were a pessimist, it did give you a jolt. Pessimist? You? Only, he hadn't put it as such. No, he had used smaller words and a longer phrasing, but the message was relatively the same.

But, he then shrugged and said, "Then again, everyone is. And I don't think they can be blamed."

You were grateful for that assurance.

**82) His Dream About the Masked Man**

I am someone, the Masked Man said to you.

You asked him what he meant by that.

He shook his head, dead eyes boring into your living ones, sucking light from them in not an _unpleasant_ sensation so to speak, but awkward one. I am someone, I am more than what I think I am. You know who I am, Lucas.

You asked him what he meant by that.

Who am I, Lucas? Where did you put me? Where am I, Lucas?

You asked him what he meant by that.

WHERE DID YOU HIDE ME? I CAN'T FIND ME, LUCAS.

You asked Claus what he meant by that.

Masked Man smiled, lifted his good hand, and waved.

You gave a tentative wave back.

I love you, brother, he professed. I love you so much and I want to take you away, far away from here, and I will someday, but we must wait. We must wait until the Dark One is awoken by the powers that be, the powers of Love and Abstraction, and let go.

You let go, though, you let go of the dream as soon as you regained conscious Apathy and Logic and other various things that came with being real. You let go of the idea of letting go because it was frightening and more real and true than being real.

When Boney asked you why you were turning about last night, you told him you had a dream about elephants.

**83) Berlin Wall**

There's something between you, the two halves. There's something blocking Claus from your reception, something making things so _difficult _to be whole and real. It's terrifying that someone would dare do something like that. And it's been going on for so long, too long. It forces you into a hollow doubt that it will ever come down.

But maybe. Maybe.

**84) Wrong**

It's so, so wrong. You cannot believe you are feeling such damnable atrocities. It scares you. These are things people go to hell for, according to grandpa and dad and everyone. But...Claus is doing it with you, so...

It must be okay.

Mom once did say that things didn't need to be right to be okay.

**85) Claus Should Have Eaten It, Anyways**

You didn't eat breakfast today because you'd probably burn it if you did.

It was the food that Claus should have been eating, anyways.

These thoughts, these musings of _guilt_, longing for _atonement_ drove you into the shell you were. You stifled cries at night because you knew you were weak and dad knew you were weak. Dad wished Claus were here instead of you, miserable, weak Lucas. Dad would rather have no child than Lucas by yourself. Dad was brave and reliable and strong and Lucas was...

Lucas. And that's your major flaw in the programming of a son.

**86) When He Went Beserk**

Bad person bad person bad people don't do this stuff oh no bad people never do this stuff stop it you bad person bad person just like Lucas just like Lucas you bad person you terrible man boy monster dinosaur brother please don't die stop dying everyone please stop leaving oh stop dying Lucas can't stand it anymore and it's all your fault you bad person bad person you terrible man boy monster chimera masked thing girl oh so scared Lucas is so scared so scared

And then, after everything, he just

. s n a p p e d .

**87) Eulogies and Actual Accounts**

The constriction of a funeral was something you were not familiar to. You respected your dead, you felt pain at the recognition of such a fact, you stood quiet and sordid in the background.

But those...those eulogies? They bothered you. They would give an account of her life and leave out so many details. Important details. Such important details. They recreated her to be some sort of ancient saint, far away and having never affected your life. You loved your mom; you loved the good and the bad. What gave them the right to give a white static version of her colorful life?

Dad's gravelly reply to you was to never say something like that ever again.

But dad knew mom's colors, so you respected that much and ducked your head down in shame.

**88) It Beats For You**

You don't want it to. Honestly. You don't want your beloved town to change constantly. Three years of terrifying misery and HaPPy BoXeS that spat annoying nonsense all day with so many channels of this or these and nothing sensible. Three years of swallowing whimpers and forcing manhood upon yourself when you know that you are very far from being a man. That your are very far from being ready to be a man.

_It's me, Claus! _

You scowl, just for a moment because you know you look very ugly when you screw up your face in such a fashion, and rearrange your thoughts. The necessity to become a man is what makes you ready to be one. You are very ready to be a man. You can tend the sheep and run errands and earn this mysterious material called 'money.'

_See how my heart beats in and out? _

You don't like money much, though. Why do you need to give something in exchange for necessities of water, food, and shelter? Why do you need to give something to receive what you must absolutely obtain? It is too much to ask of the boy who is called Lucas, and you are ashamed that it is. Why can't you give a sheep to your neighbor if your neighbor so needs it, free of any charge save for that very need?

_Lucas!_

Claus, that is, if Claus were still around, he would agree with Lucas. You are sure of it. Or, so you fervently make yourself believe time and time again. It's like swallowing molasses, really. It has trouble going down and though its very sweet, it's far too sugary to be entirely enjoyed. Too sweet, an entrapping lie, and oh you always did have a sweet tooth.

_There's nothing to worry about now. _

**89) Four Words of Terror**

Once upon a time.

_Oh no, not again. _

_ This will end poorly. I can just tell._

**90) The Time When He Burned Breakfast**

When you woke up, your nose wrinkled in disgust. There was a strange smell drifting through the air-almost ashy and good. A bad combination. Flinging your arm to the side and noting the dull thud it made with the straw mattress, you rose.

You slid off of the bed and padded down the stairs, listening to your small feet leave sounds as they slapped against the course wood. Reaching the kitchen, you witnessed smoke and saw...Claus? No, no... Yourself? Could it be? You rushed forward, smacked your own arm away from the frying pan, and felt a sickening sensation almost as though something dead rolled over in your stomach.

You looked at you in fear and confusion. You stated that you were...were just trying to make some breakfast was all. Don't be mad. Please, don't be mad.

You ran back up the stairs.

**91) The Worst**

If you ever saw your brother again, you would hug him and tell him how truly wonderful he always was to you, how much of a good brother he was. You would stop being so timid and miserable and, and, and, and...

But right now, you didn't know what to do. You were lost. You were shocked that you could move on. It was like swimming through the sludge-filled rivers. Thick. Numbing. Impossible, yet still you could stay afloat.

What's the worst that can happen, Lucas? You'll _die_?

...Maybe that's not the worst.

Or maybe it is.

You don't know. You're trying to care, but you don't know.

Because the river current still moves and it just carries you on, time carries you on through years and years and months and weeks and days and hours and blinks. Through sleepless nights with no brother next to you and early rising and pretending to eat so father will not worry (though he won't, don't let that concern you) and going to mother's grave and, and, and, and, and

l i v i n g .

**92) Humiliation**

It was a feeling of wanting to crawl into a hole and just, well, die. The gaze that dad turned on you was like a sack of buckwheat on your back. He was disappointed in you, the thoughtless son, the proclaimed youngest, the judgmental disabled child with moral errors. "What did you say?" Which translated into 'You're wrong.' Why can't they just say 'You're wrong' and get it over with? Why were you so stupid? Why couldn't you be like Claus? Dad wasn't hard to please, and yet you botched it up at every available occasion.

You don't need to please anyone but yourself, mom had once told you. But if dad wasn't pleased, you weren't. It was fruitless and meaningless, this you knew, yet you grasped anyhow. You leapt and strained and cried and tried to suck it up.

"Lucas, I don't think you understand how lucky you are, sometimes," the man sighed and moved forward.

You swallowed and trailed after him.

**93) ****Я сошла с ума**

I really do. I hate you, the boy named Lucas. You horrid boy who stole Nuts from our garden. You're going to pay. You're all going to pay. You and your German twin and your Japanese mother and your Western father. You're all going to pay, one by one by one.

Who am I, the boy named Lucas who stole nuts from our garden? Little old me?

I'm the boy named Lucas.

**94) Melody of Love**

Take a melody, simple as can be. Give it some words and sweet harmony.

A boy with a cap, a boy like Ness, who scaled through worlds, climbed a mountain, confronted an otherworldly enemy and never managed to make history in the process. A boy who had little singing capabilities, so frail was his voice, yet rose with the swaying song just as the more able children did beside him.

You smiled, because even if it wasn't not much, it was something you could believe in.

**95) Alliances Set Firmly in Sand**

Claus couldn't shield you from society forever, this you knew and regrettably so. He couldn't protect you from Miss Molly or Lisa or Yado or Thomas anymore than he could the dark. It never changed the fact that he fought valiantly to do so, however. For Claus was your Achilles, even if he himself did not know so. He was the unbeatable fighter, though you both knew he would fail one day.

That day wasn't today, however, nor was it yesterday. So it didn't quite matter.

**96) "Victory to Thee"**

No one said you had to relish the win, Lucas.

**97) The Death of Brother (Claus)**

He stared across at you with new eyes, old eyes. Familiar eyes. No matter that one wasn't even real, there was something in them; they were alive. He mouthed your name quietly with shuddering lips, raising his right arm. You stared in exaltation before, now with terror. The cannon-the cannon would fire a volley of lightning and...and... And what? You had forgotten. Ah, yes! You would get hurt.

There was a knowledge in his eyes, a near suicidal glint of fierce light. And he smiled. The lightning was released. And he smiled. The lightning was bounced away by a forcefield produced by the Franklin Badge (dad's Courage Badge). And he smiled. The lightning struck him.

And you sobbed.

**98) Six Words of Hope**

And they lived happily ever after.

_Oh please, Dark Dragon, oh please..._

_ Let it be okay this once._

**99) When He Destroyed the World (Or So He Thought)**

When you lifted the needle out of its resting place, you did not screw your eyes shut in fear or desperation. You merely waited for the calm to envelope you in its gentle grasp. And it did, it did, yet it felt more intense (intense calm?) than ever before. PK Love surged through you, within you, without you.

Dimly, dimly, you heard a rumbling noise, as though the world were caving in on itself.

**100) The Time When Claus Burned Breakfast**

When you woke up, your nose wrinkled in disgust. There was a strange smell drifting through the air-almost ashy and good. A bad combination. Flinging your arm to the side and noting the dull thud it made with the straw mattress, you rose.

You slid off of the bed and padded down the stairs, listening to your small feet leave sounds as they slapped against the course wood. Reaching the kitchen, you witnessed smoke and saw...yourself? No, no... Claus? Could it be? You rushed forward, shock coursing through your veins. How? HOW? Oh, you had never felt better in your life!

He smiled at you so kindly, so_ lovingly_, and spoke, "Lucas, sweetheart, you're dead."

All the same, as you hugged him and recognized his scent, recognized his red hair (as a red a sunset had been), you had never felt better.


End file.
